Magnolia grandiflora

The petals are large and floppy, like a Basset Hound's ears.

There is a marvelous sweet fragrance. How could I have missed that? I suppose because the flowers are usually 30 feet away from my nostrils. In hand, the perfume seems miraculous.

The white purity of the petals is quickly sullied.

The foliage is like a slab of #2 plastic. Fallen leaves take months to dry out, and even then, need assistance to crumble. The roots buckle sidewalks. That sweet-smelling central cone turns into a hard red seeded cylinder that can twist an ankle, jam mower blades, and raise general garden havoc. Those flowers must be paid for.

Magnolia: putting the "grand" in "grandiflora".

Peony Portrait

Peony

Rose. Harder to photograph.



Rose and Peony



Peony



I wanted a peony photo. Cut-stem peonies were for sale at Trader Joe's--five stems for $6--or was it $7? So, I got my photo. They are much easier to photograph than roses, or rather easier at any rate than Rosa 'Yves Piaget', which has petals that maddeningly reflect the light and ruin the photo just about every time. Perhaps a UV filter would help. 'Yves Piaget' flowers are rather peony-like, but not quite. They have a sweet citrus fragrance. The peonies had a fragrance like fresh cake batter, with a touch of nutmeg. Though I can't grow them, I will revel in them anyway. They are spectacular. I am enthralled.




Sorry about all that pink!

Pot Thoughts

   



Pots.  They might be supporting.




Or too full.



They may perch.



Or be elevated.



Or be mysteriously and inexplicably placed.



They may be sunken.



They may have had a previous existence in lighting.



They may have sat too long.



They may be a forest in miniature.



They are tangible evidence of plantaholism.



They keep thugs at bay.



They collect litter.



They keep dogs from walking through places they shouldn't.  Sometimes.




In a pinch, they make a side table.



They are evidence of haste.



They shade the vulnerable.



They prop open gates.



They are plant stands.



They hang.


They collect trash. 



They emphasize the architectural form. 

They are a place to die. 


But also a place to be born.




They color.


Some people have too many.


Sometimes they are not pots at all.


They can be buddies.


They are perfect for Cycads.


They fill voids.


Sometimes, they are even beautiful.

How Fast Does Agonis flexuosa 'After Dark' Grow?

July 2007:


July 2010 (the same tree, same location, from the opposite direction):


Fairly fast.  

The Claim: 100% Compostable. Really?

The cup claims to be 100% compostable.  I've read these types of cups really only compost in commercial composting operations. 



However, I'm going to see what happens in with my semi-anaerobic trash barrel composting method.  I've been dumping a bucket or two of clippings into the trash barrel for months and months now, haven't harvested a bit, but there always seems to be room for more clippings every few days.  I've started thinking of it as more of a digestor or worm-bin than as a true composter.  It's full of very happy earthworms.

Worn-out trash barrel recycled as a composter:


In it goes:


I'll be checking on the decomposition process of the cup, and update you on how fast it does or doesn't decompose.  In the meantime, Hydrangea 'Ayesha', looking like a pink river, and Sedum radicans.  Hard to get a beauty shot of a composter.







Update 12/20/2012 -- nearly 18 months after the original post.  I finally harvested that bin of compost.  The cup hasn't broken down all that much.  How will it look in another 18 months?

 Update 4/29/2013:  The cup has broken into strips but each strip is still totally recognizable.  Slow indeed.  Back into the pile you go...

Dainty

Dainty things tend to vanish in this garden.  I forgot all about Oscularia deltoides for a while, until it bloomed.  Dainty of flower, otherwise it is tough as nails. 

One of the rose cuttings I managed to root via the stick-it-in-the-soil method has a dainty flower bud.  Great!  I'll be able to find out which rose it is.  Labels?  Labels are for wimps.

Rosa 'Vineyard Song' has been struggling but never quite vanishing in my garden for nearly a decade.  I had it first in one, then another, then yet another terrible spot:  bone-dry slopes, full shade, bone-dry slopes in full shade.  Any normal rose would have died long ago.  Overwhelmed with guilt, amazed at its survival, I finally dug it out, accidentally splitting it into two pieces.  I gave them decent, not great spots last year, and now they actually look like plants, with dainty, penny-sized flowers.  What survivors!

Dianella tasmanica variegata once had a much better spot, but it outgrew that and so was condemned to no-plant's land  near the Brugmansia.  I forget it has those dainty flowers.  It's tough, too.  In a bit too much sun it toasts, and it gets no water unless I remember to give it some.  But there it is. 

 About bloomed out, with the arrival of the hot season:


The Brugmansia I wacked down a couple of months ago has grown back into a lush mass of foliage so dense the flowers are hidden.  Dainty, not.  The clump of Dianella was so large I split it into two.  The Dianella is there on either side of the Brug's base.  The Agonis flexuosa 'After Dark' on the right grew three feet taller this winter due to all the rain.  It is otherwise not irrigated.  The Agonis has a daintiness to it, despite being a tree.  It bloomed a bit for the first time this spring, with dainty white star-shaped flowers.

"Dainty" has another meaning besides "small and delicately pretty";  it is also "something good to eat; a delicacy".  Which means the fresh figs I'm patiently waiting for, and wondering how I will protect them from birds, possums, and rats.   I'm thinking a tube of hardware cloth over the branch, with perhaps a sock to close off each end.  Certainly not lost or forgotten.  I planted this tree last year, when it produced exactly one fig.  At the precise moment of ripeness, the fig vanished.  Hence my tube-of-hardware-cloth idea this year.  Fresh figs are not to everyone's taste, but they are to mine.

Hiding from the birds:

 

Come to think of it, these plants are dainty in appearance, not in vigor.  No wonder they have survived.